


just won't quit

by bewareoftrips



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: M/M, Mildly OOC, Riverparents, Sick Fic, You've been warned, and every girl yelling at him, and the results are more or less fp chasing him around, blue and gold, but a LOT of sweat, fred likes to pretend to be a big man when he's sick, little bit of vomit, parentdale, school libraries, school lunch, sleeping at school, this is nonsense and i'm not sorry one bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 15:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewareoftrips/pseuds/bewareoftrips
Summary: Fred Andrews never gets sick. Especially not during basketball tryouts. Especially not when his folks are out of town.orFP Jones spends his afternoon trying to get a delirious Fred Andrews home and tucked into bed.





	just won't quit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jugheadjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/gifts).



> A very late birthday gift to dearest Julia. I tried to hit a bunch of your kinks with this one and I only hope it lives up to whatever low expectations I've set. I also might have borrowed a few ideas of yours. Enjoy!
> 
> Julia can't write a single fic without mentioning Fred playing baseball. I can't write one without mentioning Alice's love of Doc Martens. I don't know why we're this way, but we just are.

“Tuna salad again, Mary?” Hermione pulled a face as she chewed the straw sticking out of her diet cola. “Fish and mayo aren’t a well balanced meal.”

Mary paused with her sandwich halfway to her lips. “So says the girl having Twinkies and soda for lunch?” She took a large bite.

“I’ll have you know diet soda is fat free and Twinkies are empty calories. I’m cheating the system.”

“Oh.” Mary swallowed her food. “You know what’s not what empty calories means, right?”

“It means you’re the one feasting on fish and mayo and I’m the one who cares about what they put into their body.”

“I will have you know my mom goes really light on the mayo, so it’s basically -”

“Basically gross is what it is.” Hermione nodded to the boy next to her. “Look at poor Fred. You’re about to make him barf.”

FP looked up from his school lunch - Friday was chicken nuggets and fries - and glanced at Fred sitting across from him. He was poking at a fruit cup with a spork but didn’t seem interesting in actually picking up anything. There was some ketchup on the corner of his tray, but FP counted and there were still eight nuggets there. FP nudged him under the table with the tip of his boot until Fred looked up.

“You okay?” he asked, popping another fry in his mouth. Fred’s eyes were hooded, his face paler than normal. He stared at FP for a few seconds before realizing he’d been asked a question.

“Yeah man. I’m peachy.” He picked up the fruit cup and forced the corners of his mouth up. “Absolutely peachy.”

“I don’t know, Fred.” Mary slowly chewed on her sandwich. “Pardon my French, but you kind of look like shit.”

“Geez, Mary. That’s not very nice.” Hiram plopped down in the chair next to Hermione. “That’s what Fred’s face always looks like.” He dropped a brown paper bag on the table in front of him and smiled. “No need to rub it in.”

FP placed his foot over Fred’s under the table, but Fred pulled his foot away and went right back to staring at his untouched lunch. FP almost reached across the table to grab his hand, but thought better of it.

“The only thing you need to pardon is talking with food in your mouth,” Hermione said to Mary. “How unbecoming. You’re hanging around that slob too much. And you,” Hermione turned on Hiram and waved a finger in his face, “don’t you dare tease Fred today. He’s on edge.”

“On edge?” FP and Hiram asked at the same time.

Hermione rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her diet cola. “Obviously. Basketball tryouts are this afternoon.”

“Basketball?” Hiram scoffed. “I thought you played baseball. You can’t play two sports.”

“Well they don’t interfere with each other, so why can’t he?” Hermione reached out blindly and clapped Fred on the back. “If Fred’s able to play both, why not?”

Hiram straightened his back. “You know, I’ve been known to dribble a ball once or twice in my life. Maybe I should try out too.”

“Oh, but you can’t.” FP smiled down at Hiram. “Because basketball season and wrestling season are at the same time. Better luck next year, Lodge.”

“I’m not saying I’d accept the position,” Hiram said quickly. “But I could try out. Prove I could do it. It could be fun. Plus,” he turned his attention to Hermione and shot a smile at her, “I always thought it was so unfair that cheerleaders only cheer for football and basketball. Wrestlers need love too.”

“Come on now, Hiram.” Hermione pinched his cheek lightly. “You know one-on-one sports don’t have cheerleaders. How silly would that be?”

Mary poked FP’s side as he wiped the last bit of ketchup up with a chicken nugget. She jutted her chin towards Fred, who had now pushed his whole tray several inches away from himself, giving up his sad attempt to pretend to eat. With a side glance at the rest of the table, FP reached out and touched Fred’s hand. Fred jumped in his seat, startling Hermione next to him.

“Fred, what are you -”

“Here, FP.” Fred shoved his tray further away from himself. “I can’t eat another bite.”

FP pursed his lips. “Doesn’t look like you ate anything to begin with.”

Fred’s heavy eyes met his for an instant before looking back to his lap. “I had a big breakfast.”

“Here, Fred.” Mary extended a tupperware container with the other half of her sandwich. “You love my mom’s tuna salad.”

“Tomatoes,” Fred muttered under his breath. He leaned his elbows on the table and placed his face in his hands.

Mary groaned. “You can take the tomatoes off, Fred.”

“They leave yucky stuff behind.” He rubbed his eyes. “Residue.”

“Oh my god. Well you need to eat something.”

“I still have a Twinkie,” Hermione offered. “Or, Hiram what’d you bring?” She turned her body around. “Brown paper bag? What 5th grader did you steal that from?”

Hiram flipped the bag around. Hal’s name was written with a blue marker on the outside. “I didn’t steal - I traded. Sometimes I like to see what the average all-American teen brings to lunch.” He pulled out a plastic wrapped sandwich. “Baloney and cheese. Wow, Mrs. Cooper really went all out, huh?” He extended it to Fred, but Fred shook his head. “Suit yourself.” Hiram started unwrapping the sandwich.  

Fred carefully cleared his throat and spoke. “I’m fine guys, really. I just didn’t sleep great.” He nudged his tray closer to FP. “I told you you can have it.”

“You forget your lunch again today or something?” Mary asked, picking up the second half of her sandwich. FP glanced quickly at Fred before grabbing a nugget and scooping up a generous amount of ketchup. Couldn’t let it all go to waste. “Your mom is going to kill you if you keep doing that.”

He shook his head. “Nah, my parents are out of town for a few days. Dad’s doing some treatments in Centerville, so they’re staying there.”

Mary slowed her chewing. “So where did you have this big breakfast, huh?”

Fred’s mouth fell slack. Before he could mutter a word, Hermione slapped her hand over his forehead.

“Jesus, Freddy.” She turned her hand the other way and felt it again. “You’re burning up.” She slid her left hand to his upper back and felt both of his cheeks too. “You have a fever.”

“I do not have a fever.” He tried to pull away from her, but she had a tight grip on the back of his t-shirt. “I feel fine. Can’t a guy just not be hungry for once?”

“You should go to the nurse,” Hiram said through a mouthful of bologna. He swallowed quickly at Hermione’s disgusted face. “You could be contagious or something. Too bad though.” He started looking back through Hal’s lunch and pulled out a chocolate pudding cup. “Guess you won’t make the basketball team this year. Stick to your spring sports.”

“I’ll miss nothing.” Fred laboriously took a deep breath and tried to stand up. Hermione tugged him down before he got an inch off his seat. He sent a glare her way. “I told you, I’m fine.” With another deep breath, he pushed his chair back and stood up, finally making Hermione let go. “I’m heading to the library.”

“Why?” Hiram stirred his pudding with a plastic spork. “Did you finally learn how to read?”

“Listen here.” Fred waved his finger at Hiram, but quickly lost his balance and grabbed his discarded chair for support. “I - I - ” He closed both of his eyes. “I don’t remember what I was saying.”

FP crammed the last of Fred’s chicken nuggets in his mouth as he stood up. “Hiram was saying you can’t read.”

Fred’s eyes popped opened. He waved his right index finger over Hermione’s head at Hiram. “Of course I can read. I’m not the one who got kicked out of prep school for being too dumb.”

Hiram paused with a spoonful of pudding halfway to his mouth. “My GPA is way higher than yours. I left private school because -”

“Who cares?” Mary asked. She wiped her mouth on a napkin and gestured for FP to walk around the table to get behind Fred. “Lets just bring Fred to the nurse before he passes out.”

“I’m not going to the nurse, Mare!” Fred wiped his forehead with his sleeve and FP could see the sweat mark seeping into the flannel. “I’m fine. Totally fine.” He straightened his back but still held onto his chair for dear life. “Like I said, I’m going to the library. I have study hall next period and I’ll just take a nap there and I’ll be fine. I don’t have a fever, I’m not sick. I’m just tired, okay? I don’t sleep great when my parents aren’t home and that’s that.”

Hermione looked up from the brown paper lunch bag she was peeking into. “Gee Fred. Why didn’t you just say something?” She shoved the bag back in Hiram’s direction. “Hal really did you dirty. He traded lunches with you, but took his mom’s cookies out? That’s not a fair trade.” She turned back to Fred. “Why don’t we have a little sleepover at your place if your folks are away?”

Hiram dropped his empty pudding cup on the table. “Sleepover? You’d really sleep over Fred’s when -”

“Not a typical sleepover, Hiram.” She rolled her eyes in his direction but smiled brightly at Fred and FP. FP stood closely behind Fred, ready to grab him in case he toppled over. “Like a, I don’t know.” Her eyes lit up. “I don’t want to say a party, but -”

“No, Minnie.” Mary slammed her bottle of apple juice down, causing a few drops to spill over the edge onto the table. “You can see he’s sick. You’re not using Fred’s illness as -”

“Illness?” Hiram rolled his eyes. “God, you girls are so dramatic. All three of you. You two,” he pointed one hand to Hermione and another to Mary, “acting like Fred is on his deathbed. And that one,” he pointed to Fred, “acting like this tiny, little cold is the plague.”

“I don’t have a tiny, little cold,” Fred grumpled.

“Nope,” Mary said. “You have a big, fat cold.”

“Or the flu!” Hermione tried.

Fred was starting to lose his posture again and was slowly seeping down over his chair. “I just need a nap is all. Is that so much to ask?”

“Relax bud.” FP put his hand on Fred’s back and could feel the heat radiating through his two layers. “Christ, Fred. You’re sweating up a storm. Take one of your shirts off at least.”

“Geez, FP.” Hermione smirked over her shoulder. “Save that for private time, please.”

FP ran his hand up to Fred’s shoulders, trying to ignore the dampness of his clothes. Fred tried shrugging him off, but FP kept his hands firm.

“How about we go to the nurse at least, huh?” he whispered in Fred’s ear. The light smell of sweat was coming off of him. “We don’t have to tell anyone where we’re going.”

From his side, he could see Fred purse his lips, but nod. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he said softly. He shrugged again and FP finally let his hands off. “Let me just grab my bag.”

Fred took a step forward and leaned down to grab his bookbag. The other three were still talking about the sleepover.

“What if he’s contagious?”

“Then we play nursemaid and bring him back to health.”

“I am not sleeping at the house of some plebeian -”

“Well no one invited you,Hiram.”

“Hey, FP.”

FP turned his attention away from the bickering group. “Yeah, Freddy?”

“Carry this for me, will you?” Fred held his bookbag out towards FP. “It’s heavy.”

“Yeah, okay.” He reached out for the bag just as Fred dropped it. FP caught it by a strap before it hit the ground. “What are you talking about? This doesn’t weigh a - hey!” Fred shoved past him and made a beeline for the door. “What the hell, Fred!” He turned towards the rest of the group who all shrugged in response. “Well? Anyone else coming?”

Hermione chewed on her straw again. “Come now. He’s going to make it halfway down the hall and collapse. Better go catch him before he does.”

FP took a few steps backwards, grabbing his own backpack and slinging it over his shoulder with Fred’s. “Mary?” His eyes darted to Hiram. “Anyone?”

Mary sighed. “Hermione is right. He does this everytime he gets sick. He tries to be Mr. Tough Guy and then -”

“Hiram?” FP asked desperately.

Hiram locked eyes with him as he peeled the foil off a second pudding cup. “No.”

“Bunch of friends you are!” FP spun on his heel and took off running through the swinging doors of the cafeteria.

“Hey!” Hiram yelled as he reached the doors. FP screeched to a halt and turned around. “Hal is in the newspaper office if you need help dragging Andrew’s body to potter’s field!”

FP flipped him off as he shoved through the double doors.

* * *

 

Fred’s chest ached as he tried pulling open the heavy wooden door leading to the library. Why was the door made of wood anyway? Shouldn’t it be a fire door? It was literally a room filled with paper. And books were expensive. Didn’t the school care enough to protect one of its assets?

The door pulled in and Fred found himself stumbling forward with it. He caught a flash of brilliant red hair as he stumbled inside.

The red hair gasped. “What are you doing?”

Fred straightened himself up and took a look at the door, the word PUSH stenciled neatly right next to the handle. Well, at least the door wasn’t as heavy as it seemed in that case.

“Fred?” A tentative hand landed on his shoulder and he heard another gasp as he batted it away. “You’re sweaty.”

“I know I’m sweaty, Penelope.” He turned around laboriously and wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve again. She pulled a face at the action. “I was running.”

Penelope crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not supposed to be running in the halls.”

“Well, I’m late for something.”

“The next period doesn’t start for another 20 minutes.”

Fred held in a groan. He could normally appreciate Penelope’s quirkiness and lack of social graces, but not today.

“I’m not late for class.”

Penelope’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re often late for class.” She turned around and eyed the nearly empty library suspiciously. “Are you meeting someone here?”

Fred forced a smile. “Exactly. So if you don’t mind -”

“Be careful if you have a date. You look like you’re coming down with something.” She eyed him up and down. “Flu maybe? I hear it’s going around.”

“I do not have the flu!”

Penelope glared at him and held a finger to her lips. “This is the library, Fred. Be respectful, please.”

He sighed and nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’m really not in the mood for a chat. So if you’ll just -”

The door to the library burst open and FP ran in, holding a stitch in his side. “Jesus, Freddy. Here you are.”

“Shush!” Penelope said loudy, holding her finger up to her mouth again. “This is the library.”

FP ignored her and took Fred’s arm. “Come on. We’re going to the nurse’s office.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Fred pulled himself away from FP and toppled sideways into Penelope. She put her hands out to steady him, pulling another terrible face as she did.

“You’re perspiring and feverish,” she said, pushing him back into FP’s arms. She quickly reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of hand sanitizer. “You’ve fallen ill and you’re at the point where you’re too delirious to realize how bad it’s gotten.”

“Please, don’t tell me I have the plague,” Fred groaned. FP tighten his grip as Fred’s thin frame turned this way and that. “I’m pretty sure they cured that along with polio.”

“The plague,” Penelope muttered under her breath as she dropped the hand sanitizer back in her purse. “Excuse me.”

“You want to go to the nurse and give her a heads up I’m bringing Fred there?” FP asked. “Just in case he gets away from me again.”

Penelope pouted her lips in confusion. “Why would I want to do that? I was heading to the cafeteria.”

Fred tried to shove FP off again and FP finally wrapped his arms entirely around him, pinning Fred against him. Penelope gave them another quizzical look.

“You’re a cheerleader,” FP pleaded. “That means you’re responsible for the well-being of the students in this school, right?”

Penelope shook her head. “That’s not what cheerleaders are responsible for at all.”

“If the nurse knows we’re coming, she’ll be waiting and this one,” he nodded his head down at the still squirming Fred, “will feel guilty and just admit he’s sick. So be a pal and go to the nurse.”

Penelope pursed her lips. “We are not pals, Forsythe.”

“Please? Pretty please?”

She shifted back and forth. “Okay,” she said softly. “But I’m not touching him again.”

“No one’s asking you too,” Fred grumbled. FP finally let go of him.

“Go ahead,” FP said to Penelope. “Tell her we’ll be there in a few.” Penelope nodded and walked between the two boys and out the wooden doors. “Now, I won’t drag you there if you just go willingly, okay?”

Fred crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to go to the nurse, F. I just want to, I don’t know.” He uncrossed his arms and rubbed his eyes. “Just sit at one of the tables in the back and close my eyes. I’ll feel better then.”

“Do you admit you feel shitty?”

“No.” Fred’s whine came out low and annoyed. “I feel fine. I’m just tired.” He took his hands off his face and looked into FP’s eyes. “I’m cranky and tired and worried about my dad, okay?”

“Hey, hey, hey.” FP took a look over at the counter, currently vacant of the librarian. There was only a small scattering of people in the library and most seemed far too concerned with finishing their forgotten homework to pay the two boys in the front any mind. FP took Fred’s face in his hands, letting his fingertips just touch the hair on the back of his neck. “We don’t have to go to the nurse, okay? You want to just skip the rest of the day? We’ll go to your place.”

Fred scoffed. “I told you, FP. I’m too tired for any of that stuff right now.”

“Hey.” FP glanced over Fred’s shoulder again. They still hadn’t attracted any attention. He pressed his nose up to Fred’s, getting a good look at the bags growing under his eyes. “Stop being funny. Let me just take you home and tuck you in.”

“I can’t skip school. If my parents find out -”

“Fine, then we’ll go to the nurse and have her write you a note.”

Fred let out a soft breath. “Don’t get too close to me, F. I could be -”

“Contagious?”

Fred groaned and pulled his head back. “Fine, fine. Take me to the nurse. But she’s not going to let me go home unless my folks come sign me out, and they’re both in Centerville.”

“She’ll let you sleep it off at least.”

He nodded slowly. “Just like, let me walk by myself, okay? Just hold my bag.”

“Still got it.” FP pat the strap on his shoulder as he let go of Fred’s face completely. “Just don’t go running off on me again.”

“Can’t.” Fred walked through the library door that FP pulled open. “I used whatever adrenaline I had left to make it over here.”

“You didn’t have to run.” FP’s eyes kept darting to the side to keep an eye on Fred.

“Yeah I did.” Fred fell a few steps back and FP slowed his pace as well. “Else you were going to get Mary and Hermione to hogtie me and bring me to the emergency room.”

“I wasn’t going to get them to do anything,” FP chuckled. “They’d probably do it themselves. Fred?” He turned around to where Fred had stopped dead in his tracks some five feet back. “Fred, what’s -”

“Catch me.”

“What?” FP took a step towards him. “Did you say -”

Fred collapsed and FP dove below him right before his head could hit the tiled floor.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you let this happen.” Alice tossed her hair over her shoulder and stood to her full height in front of FP, hands firmly on her hips. “I swear to god, I don’t know how either of you put your pants on the right way in the morning without me taking care of you. I can’t have lunch in the Blue and Gold office a few times a week without you nearly killing Fred? If I have to -”

“Oh shut the hell up,” FP moaned. He put his hands on his hips and mimicked her pose, looking down at her with all he had. “I didn’t drag Fred down the hall so you could yell at me. I came here for help.”

“Help?” Alice snorted. She turned to look at Hal. “You hear that? He needs our help.”

“I think Fred’s the one who actually needs some help,” Hal said. He was on his knees in front of the small worn out couch in the newspaper office - an ancient relic that was now little more than a lump of stuffing and colorless fabric. Hal put a wet paper towel on Fred’s forehead and a low groan escaped his lips. “I mean, he’s definitely alive, but for how long?”

Alice and FP rolled their eyes at the same time. When Alice caught his eye, she glared at him and gave him a swift kick in the shin. FP grimaced, glad she was wearing sneakers for once instead of her Doc Martens.

“Babe, Fred’s not dying from a head cold,” Alice said simply, turning back to Hal. “He just needs to sleep it off. That’s my dad’s remedy for everything.”

“I think it’s the flu actually,” Hal said slowly. He got up, dusting his pants off as he walked to the others. “Has he thrown up at all?”

“I don’t think he’s eaten enough to ralph,” FP considered. Fred stirred on the couch but didn’t open his eyes. “Can’t puke if you haven’t eaten, right?”

“Right,” Hal said unsurely. He picked up a wastepaper basket and planted it on the floor next to Fred’s head. “Just in case, you know.”

“Just leave him here,” Alice sighed. “I’ll look after him, wake him up in time for basketball tryouts.”

“Basketball tryouts?” Hal asked. “Alice, he can’t even walk. We need to get the nurse in here.”

“We need to let him sleep,” she insisted. “He just needs a woman’s touch. Some orange juice, a nap. He’ll be a-okay.”

“He needs the nurse -”

“He needs -”

“He needs,” FP cut in, stepping between them, “to go home. Coop.” He slapped Hal’s arm. “Grab his feet. I’ll get him from the top. And just grab his backpack, Al. We’ll bring him to the van.”

Alice got back in defensive position. “You’re not touching him, FP.”

“I just want to get him home, Al.”

“Junior,” Alice said firmly. She placed a hand on either of her hips again and jutted her chin at him. “Touch one hair on that idiot’s head and I will break your arm in three places.”

“Listen here, Allie.” FP stretched out each syllable of the nickname she hated. “I am getting him home, with or without your help!”

“The hell you are!”

“Hey hey hey.” Hal stepped between the two of them. He put his hand around the back of Alice’s neck until she relaxed. He put his other arm out to FP and awkwarded pat his shoulder. “Let’s all just settle down, talk this out. Yeah?”

“There is nothing to discuss, Hal.” Alice didn’t let her piercing gaze leave FP. “If I let FP take him, Fred will surely be dead by the time the last bell rings. I don’t want to be the one to explain to his poor mother that I could have prevented this.”

“Right, well.” Hal pulled Alice closer to him. “Maybe, let’s take him to the nurse at least? Better than him lying on that couch.”

“You think the school nurse knows better than me?”

“Yes.” Alice spun around and glared at him. “I mean, she’s professionally trained, Alice. What do you know about the flu?”

“She’s a hack.” She turned back to FP. “Fine. Take him home. But I swear to God, if he dies on your watch, you’re explaining to his poor heartbroken mother what happened. Also, you’re going to owe me a new friend.” She looked between the two boys. “Well what are you waiting for? You get the top, you get the bottom.”

“No one is getting anything,” Fred muttered from the couch. He had pulled his flannel shirt off as the three of them bickered and he tossed it over his head to block out the light. “I’m comfortable. Let me stay here for study hall and I’ll be fine.”

“No, no, no.” FP got on his knees in front of the couch. “Come on. You need to get home. Or to the nurse at least. We just had this -”

“I don’t wanna.” Fred kicked his foot out so it hit the arm of the couch. His whining was muffled, but still loud enough for Alice and Hal to hear him from the other side of the room. “Just leave me alone.”

“Fred, you’re going home,” Alice demanded. She yanked the spare shirt off his head, forcing him to cover his eyes with his arm. “You’re sickly and gross and you’re sweating on our makeout spot. Get up.”

Fred shook his head. Alice snapped her fingers at the boys and pointed down to Fred. Hal and FP exchanged looks and nodded, each of them grabbing Fred at the same time and lifting him up.

“What the hell?” he muttered. “Guys, this isn’t funny.”

“It’s not supposed to be funny, Fred.” Alice grabbed Fred and FP’s bookbags. “You’ve moved passed the delirious ‘I’m stronger than I seem’ part of your illness. You’re verging into ‘I’m reverting back into a whiny preschooler’ and, quite frankly, that is my least favorite version of you. FP is taking you home.”

“Moving hurts,” Fred muttered. “I think I - guys, do you have a garbage can?”

Hal stopped in his tracks, forcing FP to stop to. “Why?”

“I think I’m gonna -”

“Don’t.” Hal lowered Fred’s feet to the ground so his only support was being propped up by his arms by FP. “Don’t say it. Just hold on, hold on a sec.”

“Here.” Alice calmly held out the waste paper basket in front of Fred. He looked down into it, his head quickly lurching forward twice before vomiting into the small can. Alice held on to it with a bored look on her face. Hal covered his own mouth and ran for the door leading to the hallway. FP rubbed Fred’s back and cooed softly as Fred emptied the contents of his stomach.

When he finished, Alice plopped the can down next to the door. She peeked her head into the hallway.

“He’s fine,” she explained quickly. “He just really, really hates puke.”

FP shook his head. “I think I’ve seen Coop throw up more times than anyone in this school combined.”

“Fuck off. He can’t help it if he has a weak stomach.” She passed Fred a tissue from the box on the desk. “Can you walk out to the hallway at least?” Fred nodded slowly. “You still want to stay here?” He shook his head. “Thought so. Let’s go.”

Alice grabbed the bookbags again and held the door open for the two of them. Hal was pacing in the hallway, taking deep breaths. Fred fell back into FP’s arms as Hal grabbed him by the feet again.

“Sorry, Fred,” Hal muttered. “I just can’t be around when someone’s throwing up. I can’t even talk about -”

“You’re talking about it right now. Shush.” Alice ran a few feet ahead of them and peeked around the corner. She waved them to follow. “Coast is clear to the front doors. Once we’re there, act casual, in case any teachers are outside smoking.”

“Casual,” Hal repeated. “Nothing more casual than this.”

FP adjusted Fred’s weight in his arms as Alice pushed open the front doors to the school. The foursome took to the student parking lot at a trot.

“Keys are in my right pocket,” FP said, panting. Fred might be mostly skin and bone, but carrying even half of him all that way tired him out.

“Keys?” Alice pulled open the back door of the Shaggin Wagon. “Like you guys ever lock this bucket of bolts.”

Alice jumped in the back seat and helped pull Fred inside. She awkwardly buckled the only back seat belt around him and ran her hands through his long hair once before squeezing back out past him.

“Christ.” She wiped the sweat on her hand on FP’s jacket. “He’s asleep again. He’d sleep through the goddamn apocalypse.”

FP paused closing the door, his eyes darting to Fred. “Did he pass out again?”

“Sleep is good,” Hal insisted. “In any form. Naturally, loss of consciousness.” He nodded, more set on convincing himself than anyone else. “Totally fine. His mom is home, right? To actually take care of him?”

“He’ll be taken care of.” FP slammed the door. “Thanks for the help.”

Alice furrowed her brow. “That wasn’t an answer.” He yanked the two bookbags from Alice’s shoulder. “FP, Mrs. Andrews is home, right?”

“Make yourself useful.” He tossed both bags in the front seat and climbed in. “Go ask Coach Marren if Fred and I can try out next week. We both have the flu.”

“I will do no such thing.” She tapped on the window after he closed the door and started the engine. “FP, you’re just taking him home and coming back. You can’t afford to skip! You’re not sick!”

“Someone has to play nursemaid!” he called through the window with a grin. He pulled out of the spot, Alice not leaving the window.  

“I expect you back by the end of next period!” she yelled. FP watched in the rearview mirror as Alice lightly jogged after him. Hal caught up with her after a few strides and pulled her back. “You jerk! I hope you failure junior year!”

FP chuckled to himself and peeked quickly in the backseat. Fred had moved his arm to cover his face again, so he supposed he wasn’t entirely unconscious. He clicked the heat on, kicking himself for not telling Alice to grab the flannel she’d ripped off of Fred. It was January and FP was sure Fred’s coat (had he even brought one to school that day) was shoved in his locker still.

No matter. At the rate Fred was sweating, the last thing he probably wanted was more layers. Or did he need them? Were you supposed to sweat out a fever or freeze it out? What about the flu? Was it any different?

He pulled up in front of the Andrew’s house after the five minute drive. Artie’s car was parked in the driveway even though the house was empty.

“You awake?” FP asked softy. Fred was still for a moment before finally nodding. “Okay, I’ll help you upstairs.”

* * *

 

The journey to Fred’s attic bedroom took longer than the drive home. For the first time ever, Fred refused to be carried piggyback and FP was certain he’d whack Fred’s head on the banister if he carried him bridal style. Instead, he braced himself behind Fred and half pushed him up, letting him take his time with each step.

When they finally reached the top landing, Fred let out a sigh of relief. One, two, three steps into the room and he fell face down on the bed, his knees still handing off the edge. FP smiled in spite of himself. He rolled Fred over and unlaced his sneakers, yanking them off his feet. When he went to pull off his socks, Fred pulled his foot back.

“I like to sleep with them on,” he muttered. “You know that.”

FP laughed. “I know you like to fall asleep with them on.” He placed his hands either side of Fred and leaned over his body. “And wake up with them god knows where.”

Fred’s eyes were still closed, but the corners of his mouth turned up. “I like what I like. Don’t judge me.”

“Yeah, I like what I like too.”

Fred’s eyes slowly opened. “F, it’s not that I don’t want you here. It’s just, you probably shouldn’t get so close to me.”

Common sense told him to pull away, but he never had much common sense to begin with. He leaned in so their mouths were almost touching. “What’s too close?”

“I just puked.” Fred let out the smallest laugh and lightly hit FP’s chest until he backed away. “You’re asking for the flu you know.”

“Give it to me then.”

Fred used whatever strength he had left to push himself up the few inches on his elbows. He planted a quick kiss to FP’s lips before falling back down.

“There. You have the flu.”

FP laughed and stood back up. “That’s better.” He unclasped Fred’s belt bucket. “Lets get you more comfortable.”

Fred’s hand weakly grabbed his wrist. “None of that. Come on. I’m sick.”

“You want to sleep in your jeans?”

“Oh.” A brilliant shade of red crept up Fred’s washed out cheeks. “Sorry. I just thought -”

“Your head is in the gutter, Freddy.” FP smiled down at him as he pulled his jeans down the rest of the way. “Shirt too?” Fred nodded. FP pulled him up and peeled the damp shirt off, tossing it on the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes. “You want to take a shower or something? Might cool you down.”

Fred kicked his feet back, pushing his body closer to the head of the bed. “All I want it to go to sleep.”

“Right.” FP grabbed the quilt on the edge of the bed and spread it out over Fred. “I’ll leave the door open. Yell if you need anything.”

He shook his head. “Get in bed with me, dummy.”

FP paused. “You sure?”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked for the flu. I’m giving you the flu.”

FP sat on the edge of the bed and kicked his boots off. He pulled the corner of the quilt up and Fred pawed at his jeans.

“If mine are off, yours are off.”

FP nestled Fred into his arms. His bare skin was hot and tacky from the sweat, but FP welcomed the warmth. He combed back a few pieces of Fred’s hair with his hand.

“Freddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you’re sick, just admit it, okay?”

Even with both their eyes closed, FP could hear the smile in Fred’s voice. “Not a chance.”

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [get me a prescription for that one perfect touch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15358242) by [jugheadjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/pseuds/jugheadjones)




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